Word War two: From both the Germans and the Americans
by DarknessOfTheWolves
Summary: WW2 has broken out, one part of the story is from young Paul's eyes, a german boy who enlisted at sixteen into the german army. It recounts both his experience as a German machine gunner, and the experiences of seventeen year old Aaron, who enlisted as an American marksmen, or a sniper in other words. You have both sides of the story now, but, who is right?
1. Chapter 1

hi this is my story but i still have to work on my dead space one to so i will try to post one every other week so yeah thanks for reading...


	2. paul part 1

hi this is my story but i still have to work on my dead space one to so i will try to post one every other week so yeah thanks for reading...

(Alright i know beginning of chap two is the same thing but I'm trying to work out the kinks.)

_I sit down next to the boy. He seems to be about nineteen. He is withdrawn, small, and looks depressed, I think he's shell shocked. _

_*CLICK* _

_In this small room, the sound of my tape recorder sounds eerily similar to the cocking of a gun._

_ Historian:"Alright, so Paul is it?_ _"_

_The boy only nods and pulls his knees up to his chest. _

_Historian: Well, Paul, I'm a historian, we wanted to document the goings on of the war you experienced._

_The boy only shakes his head and mutters to himself, "I don't like thinking about anything from the war."_

_But you can see his eyes glazing over, as if deep in thought, I know there is a story there, begging to be told._

*CLICK*

The roar of the Panzer echoes in my ear, small arms fire pelt of the Panzer I have been assigned to, I crouched.

Grimacing, I pull the machine gun into my arms, I have been to assigned to _Panzer #53 _as a machine gunner, I hate the work.

It pays good though, I crouch, putting the stock in my shoulder, I stand through the top of the tank, setting my machine gun on the edge of the hatch on the tanks I sight in on the nearest Allied powers soldier.

Squeezing the trigger, I feel the MG kick in my shoulder as I watch the man goes down. I feel back in my sync of the events. It happens every time, I aim, shoot, and they die.

I just have to make sure it stays that way. And the only way to do it is to make sure they die first...

A loose round snaps by my head with a buzzing sound like a bee on steroids. I whip in the direction it came from and sight in on the next man, not letting up on the trigger, I set the on the next and next and the next. They all die. They all do.

My machine gun clicks empty and I cringe as another round goes by, I duck as I move to reload, it goes on like this for hours.

Eventually we break free of the fighting. I begin to breathe a little more easily.

Though, I couldn't shake the feeling someone was watching me.

Night was falling though, I dropped down into the tank and hunkered down for the night with the other operators. Tomorrow we cross into Stalingrad.


	3. aaron part 1

_I look at the old man, he's just sitting there. He looks to be about sixty, but I know that can not be. The war ended little over three years ago._

_It wouldn't surprise me if he could stay like that for hours at a time. Just staring. _

_He stared down at his hands, they were arthriticly swollen n the joints._

_*Click*_

_I started my recorder winding, "so Aaron is it?"_

_He nodded._

_"Well, my name is Aaron as well, I wanted to know about your experiences in the war. Could you do that for me?" _

_He shakes his head, he mutters something._

_"I'm sorry, what was that?"_

_He looks up at me, his eyes are Old,his spirit broken. Looking me in the eye he spits on the floor._

_"I said, you civilians are all the same, all you want to know about is the blood and death and destruction of that damned war, you want a story of my war life I'll give it to you. Oh, I'll give it to you alright. "_

_*Click,click,click*_

The bolt in my scoped springfield seems to cry unnaturally loud.

Cringing, I back away from the window.

"Problem comrade?"

My Russian counterpart asks me, "Aye," I whisper_._

"Well, truthfully,"I continued' "I'm not sure if it is a problem. We have a small German patrol coming from the west."

Looking through my scope again, I counted the number of units.

"Appears to be about twelve footsoldiers, three submachine gunners, three blazers," which is what we called flamethrower units, "and six riflemen, although, I count about four dogs."

I rolled over and looked at the ragtag group of soldiers we had thrown together. We were the best of the best, at least that's what we told ourselves. There were seventeen of us in all, seven riflemen, all armed with Mosin Nagants, there were three light machine gunners' armed with degtyaryov machine guns, four submachine gunners, one, an american named Terence 'terry' Johnson, was armed with a Thompson, the rest carried the PPSh-41, we had two flame units. Then there was pvt. Korantev and i , he a shotgunner armed with a trench gun, and I, a first rate sniper, I carried my marked up Springfield. All of us carried a sidearm of some sort, being Americans, CPRL. Johnson and I were issued the standard 1911. The Russians on the other hand, were armed with the Tokarev 'TT' pistol. As well as one was gifted to me by Kantorev.

He grinned, "sounds like you need to get in some target practice. Mind if I be your spotter?"

He enjoyed being my spotter because he got to watch the bullet do its damage, whereas up close, you blink when you fire, he enjoyed just watching the bullet do its damage. He always laughed about how delayed the impact was to the blast.

I nodded, over my shoulder, "Terry, you take control of the squad," I gave him the run down on the number and armament of the troops. He nodded and decided to take one flame unit, one submachine gunner, two light machine gunners, and five riflemen.

I listened in on his battle plans as he relayed it to the soldiers he would be taking with him.

Placing the flamethrower in the second story of a house next to the street that patrol was heading down, he and three of the five riflemen would attempt to take out all four dogs on CRPL. Johnson's signal, also effectively blocking off the German route, forcing the Germans to turn and face the Russians and fight, allowing me to take out the German blazer units. Then it was every man for himself. Figuratively speaking. Time to get this plan kicking.


	4. paul part 2

Morning came, the sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the air smelled of acrid pollution. God I loved my tank.

I was laying across the front of my tank when we started moving, the tank rumbled and the vibrations basically rubbed my back better than any girl back home could.

We were still fifteen minutes til we reached a hot zone. We were directly out side of Stalingrad, between Stalingrad and Rostov. I decided to climb into the tank and batton down the hatches.

I didn't feel like taking a sniper rifle round to the forehead, if this was america, I wouldn't have to worry about it, but here, in Russia, things were different. Dangerous, if you like.

I sat in the tank and talked with my tank operators about home, we were all from the same class In high school.

There were four of them, five counting me. We wee in one of the new panzers so we could fit up to seven people in the tank. We talked about the girls back home, our parents, and our teachers. We had a good laugh about old Mr. Zimmerman, who was fat enough that when he tripped he literally rolled a good five feet.

That's when the small arms fire started pelting the bank. I decided to stay in side the tank, today was gonna be a long day.

Then, all of a sudden, I caught the valley of the shadow syndrome. All of a sudden I got a sense of foreboding, bad enough that I had to pop the top hatch, and there, sure enough was a Russian soldier with a panzer! The nerve of these russians. I leapt from the tank as the soldier pulled the trigger and fired upon my friends. The tank ignited into a raging inferno, killing everyone in it.

I watched as my friends were blown to bits. I felt my knees go weak but I knew I couldn't grieve yet. Drawing my sidearm, which was an oiled and maintained, american .45 m1911A1,I dove through a window that had been blown open by the Panzershrek.

Taking cover in the house, I heard Russians come running. Judging from the amount of voices, there was no way I could have won s firefight against them.

I knew when to run and this was definitely one of those times.

I started moving backwards slowly towards a pantry door, silently opening the door I climbed in and shut the door, praying to god the Russians pass.

Eventually, I slipped into fear induced sleep, especially after my adrenaline spike ended.


End file.
